


Love Is a Bright Idea

by Mireille



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: About once a semester, Tony decided he'd fallen in love. And then, about once a semester, Tony fell out of love, and that was when Bruce's day went to hell.





	Love Is a Bright Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soft_princess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_princess/gifts).



> Complete and total fluffy silliness. The title comes from Mother Mother's "Bright Idea," the inspiration comes from soft_princess (aka my wife Sofy), and everything else is my fault entirely.

Hating Mondays might be a cliché, but that didn't mean that Bruce hated them any less.

Not because he had to get up early and go to class. Not because it meant he'd be spending long hours in the robotics lab. Those were _good_ things about Monday.

What sucked about Mondays was that on Mondays, he had to listen to Tony Stark--Bruce's main academic competition, lab partner, and (against Bruce's better judgment, sometimes) best friend--giving the play-by-play of his weekend.

“I really needed to talk to you yesterday,” Tony grumbled, without looking up from the schematics displayed on his laptop.

Bruce sighed. “You know I'm never in the lab on Sundays.” He'd discovered as a freshman that taking Sundays for things like laundry and food shopping and _not dealing with Tony_ was vital for his mental health. Especially the last part. Tony was... well, Tony was a lot, and as much as Bruce liked him, he still needed a break sometimes.

“You also don't answer your phone.” Tony worked in silence for a few minutes, which Bruce knew didn't mean that he'd dropped the subject. Though it was true, Bruce didn't answer the phone on Sundays, at least not calls from Tony's number. He'd made that mistake a couple of times freshman year, and had wound up losing the whole day to some admittedly fascinating idea that Tony had had.

But that meant that Mondays generally contained a double or triple dose of the Anthony Stark Show (initials quite intentional) and that could be draining. When it was lab talk, it was at least entertaining. If it was just Tony bragging about how much he drank or how many people he'd fucked, Bruce could have dealt with it. He didn't necessarily want to hear it, but he could just let it wash over him like all the rest of Tony's mile-a-minute babbling did when Bruce needed to focus on work.

But about once a semester, Tony decided he'd fallen in love. And then, about once a semester, Tony fell out of love--or was fallen out of love with--and that was when Bruce's Mondays went to hell.

The rest was just bullshit--Bruce didn't even believe half of Tony's stories. But no matter how obvious it had been to anyone with a working brain that Tony's current romance was utterly doomed, Tony was always genuinely unhappy when the breakup happened, and Bruce hated seeing Tony unhappy.

Bruce finished feeding the latest data into the computer, went over to the coffeemaker, and poured two cups. He set one down in front of Tony before saying, “Okay, so what happened?”

“I really thought this was going to work out,” Tony said, in between swallows of coffee.

That was because Tony was delusional, Bruce thought, but knew it would be pointless to say. “I know you did.”

“I mean, we were great together.”

So not true. Pepper had been great for Tony, at least short-term, and Bruce liked her. He liked most--definitely not all, but most--of Tony's exes. He just had no idea why Tony thought they were compatible. In this case, he figured it was because Tony just assumed that since he was happy, Pepper was happy.

It had been pretty obvious to Bruce that Pepper hadn't been happy.

“So why did she say you were breaking up?”

Tony sighed. “Because I forgot we were going out. Again. Or, well, she _says_ I forgot we were going out, but I didn't forget. I knew I was supposed to meet Pepper at eight. I just lost track of time. And then it was three AM, and she'd already made it clear that between two and seven AM, I should only call or text if it's a matter of life or death, and around 6:30 I woke up with an idea for that facial recognition algorithm I told you about on Friday, so I didn't call her at seven either.” Another long sigh, or maybe just a pause for breath. “And around noon she showed up at my place with coffee, takeout, and a nice speech about how she cares about me, but she doesn't think we have a future together.”

Good for her, Bruce thought. He understood how easy it was for Tony to get lost in his work. Hell, he did it himself a lot of the time. It hadn't been a problem when he and Natasha were dating, because he rarely forgot her, and she liked a lot of alone time. Besides, if she wanted his attention, she came and got it. But he couldn't blame someone for feeling hurt that their boyfriend routinely forgot about their existence, his own inability to survive purely on black coffee, and the passage of time.

“Better to figure that out after four months than after four years, I guess,” Bruce said. “But I know, it still sucks.”

“It really does. And I can't even figure out how to add it to the list.” After the third or fourth relationship that crashed and burned, Tony had literally started keeping a list of qualities that were absolutely essential in a romantic partner. Bruce couldn't remember all of them, but they included “Must not be totally hung up on your high-school boyfriend,” “Must be okay with an open relationship,” and “Must not be a complete psychopathic narcissist,” the latter of which was Bruce's contribution. (He'd originally left post-its in Tony's stuff with helpful hints like, “Do not stick your dick in crazy,” and “Do not let crazy stick his dick in you, either,” but those hadn't gone over well. Besides, on further consideration, some degree of crazy was probably necessary for dealing with Tony. And it wasn't like either Tony or Bruce was a model of mental health, so there wasn't much room to complain about normal, everyday levels of crazy. )

“Well, you don't have to figure it out today. Let's get to work; it'll take your mind off things.” Bruce took a sip of his coffee, then put the cup back down. He was already feeling kind of twitchy today. Maybe he shouldn't give his anti-anxiety meds that much of a workout, not if they were going to have to cope with Post-Breakup!Tony this week.

But Tony went back to his work without an argument, and within half an hour they were both so engrossed in figuring out how to implement the algorithm Tony had come up with for the facial-recognition system they were trying to put in one of Tony's robots that Pepper's name didn't come up for the rest of the day.

Maybe this time, Tony was going to be okay.

****

 

Tony was not okay.

He was quiet. “Quiet” was not Tony Stark's normal condition, and no matter how pleasant Bruce found it at first, now it was making him nervous. It was just so _wrong_. It was even hard to focus on his work; Bruce hadn't realized how much he was used to hearing Tony's voice--not usually talking to anyone in particular, just making a running commentary on his own brilliance, even when they weren't alone in the lab and the grad students looked at them funny.

This weird quiet lasted until Wednesday evening, when Bruce came back from getting dinner at the student center and set down a styrofoam takeout box in front of Tony.  
  
“What's this?” Tony poked suspiciously at the box without opening it.

“Food,” Bruce said. He opened the box to reveal a cheeseburger and fries. “You put it in your mouth, chew it, and eat it,” he added, stealing a fry to demonstrate.

“I know what food is,” Tony muttered.  
  


Bruce wasn't so sure sometimes. Tony forgot to eat regularly, if he was absorbed in what he was doing. Or miserable. Or both. “Well, if you ask a stupid question...”

“I don't need you to _take care of me_ ,” he grumbled, but he took a bite of the burger anyway.  
  
Bruce was _definitely_ sure he disagreed with that. At least, somebody needed to, and right now, he was the only volunteer. But saying that would probably remind Tony that Pepper had broken up with him, and Bruce really wanted to get some work done before he needed to crash, so he decided to take a different approach. “I can't take my meds on an empty stomach or I'll puke. And since I was getting food anyway, I figured I could bring you some. If you don't want it, fine.”

The logic deflated Tony a little. “Yeah, all right. My wallet's in my backpack, I can pay you back--”

“I already took a twenty. If you're coming in tomorrow morning, I'll bring breakfast.” Thursdays neither of them had any classes; it was a great time to get work done on their own projects, rather than assignments. Bruce's ideas rarely needed the robotics lab, but it was still a decent place to look. He liked the company, anyway.

“I'll be here,” Tony said. “I'm probably going to work all night, see if I can--”

“No way,” Bruce said. “I am not letting you put in that many more hours than me. You already make me look bad on a regular basis.” After freshman year, Bruce had figured out that if he didn't eat, sleep, and exercise on a somewhat regular basis, everything that was crappy about being him got _so much_ worse. He pulled an occasional all-nighter during midterms or finals week, but in general, he made himself go to bed, if not always at a decent hour.

Tony snorted. “I have better things to do than sleep.”

“Fine. Play video games all night. Watch porn. Take up fingerpainting. Do anything you want, just not in the lab.” Generally, if you got Tony to go home, sleep would take over eventually, and Tony would stumble into the lab late the next day looking a lot less exhausted. Tony would do the same thing for him, if he noticed.

He _did_ notice other things, like last week when the halls had been crowded with high school kids getting a guided tour and Bruce had started to panic. Tony had steered him into a stairwell and made Bruce do his breathing exercises until he was calm enough to go back to the lab. (Another thing about Tony: he was never shitty about the sheer number of anti-anxiety and antidepressant meds Bruce needed to be functional, and never tried to buy any off him for recreational purposes, either.) That was one of the reasons why, in the absence of anyone else willing to take on Tony Duty, Bruce was willing to make sure Tony didn't crash and burn while still in heartbreak mode.

Tony had been steadily eating his dinner while working and semi-listening to Bruce. “Fine,” he said. “I mean, if your ego really can't stand to admit that I'm just that much better than you, Banner, I'll handicap myself by taking a break tonight. Not yet, though.”

Bruce glanced at his phone; it was only about seven o'clock. “We're leaving at ten,” he said. “That work for you?”

“Whatever you say, Sleeping Beauty,” Tony said. “And I promise not to come back before six.” Bruce noted that he hadn't promised not to work from his apartment, but he wasn't going to argue. Nudging Tony to suck less at taking care of himself was one thing, but Bruce wasn't going the full-time babysitter route.

That would just piss Tony off, and Bruce didn't want to lose one of the few really good friends he had.

****

 

“No,” Bruce said, for the fifth time that afternoon.

“But I need your help. This will go so much faster if there are two pairs of hands.” At least, that was what Bruce thought he said; Tony was holding a screwdriver in his teeth because his hands were full of a pair of pliers and part of one of the robots.

“I have a date.” That was also the fifth time he'd said that. It was Saturday, for crying out loud. Between classes and their other projects, Bruce didn't take all that much time for himself, apart from what he'd started calling Sanity Sundays. Tony hadn't even been trying to have much of a social life in the past few weeks since he and Pepper had split up, and those Sundays to himself had been a lifesaver for Bruce. It wasn't that he minded being around Tony. It wasn't even that he minded looking after Tony a little. They were friends.

It was just that Bruce really just wanted to go out and have a nice evening. A nice, non-stressful evening. He stood a pretty good chance; he'd been out with Thor a few times over the past year or so. Neither of them was interested in anything serious--at least, not with each other--but the guy was good-looking, reasonably smart, and a lot funnier than Bruce had expected a jock to be.

Tony let the screwdriver fall. “You have a what?”

“A date,” Bruce repeated.

“As in a date?”

What the hell was wrong with Tony? Bruce had had a girlfriend until the middle of sophomore year, and while he wasn't exactly a playboy, he hadn't been a total hermit after that. “As in, we're going to catch a movie, have dinner, and who knows? Maybe we'll go back to my room. My roommate went home for the weekend, so we'd have the place to ourselves.”

“I thought Natasha had her own apartment,” Tony said.

“Natasha does have her own apartment,” Bruce said. “She can't stand living with anybody. But what does she have to do with-- wait. You do realize that I broke up with Natasha, like, before Christmas _last year_?”

“No, you didn't,” Tony argued. “I've seen you guys together since then.”

“Yes, because we're _friends._ ” That was why they'd broken up, for that matter--they'd realized they were a lot better off as friends. Until recently, when she'd started seeing someone else, they'd been friends who very occasionally had sex, but still, friends.

“You really broke up.”

“Yes.”

“Crap,” Tony said. “I'm sorry. I probably should have noticed that.”

“Probably,” Bruce agreed. “But you had a lot on your mind at the time.” And they hadn't been friends quite long enough then for Bruce to have felt okay with demanding that Tony pull his head out of his ass for a few minutes and listen to him. Tony _had_ had a lot on his mind. That was when--that was one of the hellish times when--Tony had had worse judgment than usual and was letting an asshole wreak havoc on his life. He and Tony had barely spoken for a few weeks, for that matter.

“So, a date, huh?”

“Yes! Why is that so hard to believe?” Oh, crap. He was yelling at Tony, Tony was going to be pissed at him, Tony was going to hate him, and Bruce was going to lose the single best friend he'd ever had, all because he had to be so _stupid_ \--

“Hey! Hey, Banner, look at me. Look at me,” Tony repeated until Bruce turned to face him. “Good. Okay, deep breaths. Come on, like this, you know the drill...” Bruce struggled to match Tony's breathing, forcing himself to stop gasping for air.  
  


It took a few tries, but eventually he waved a hand. “I'm good. Thanks.”  
  
“Yeah,” Tony said. “Any time. You sure you're okay?”

Bruce nodded. “Just my stupid brain.” He ran his hands through his hair, too keyed up now to hold still. At least it hadn't been a full-on panic attack. He still had a chance of having a halfway decent evening.

Tony grinned at him. “Distraction mode engaged. So, tell me about this date. Do I know her?”

That even got a laugh out of Bruce. “No, I don't think you know _him._ ”

“Him,” Tony repeated. “You're going out with a guy? Since when?”

“Since last spring, off and on. It's nothing serious.” Tony was just staring at him, and Bruce frowned. “What is wrong?”

"You had a girlfriend," Tony protested.

Bruce stared at him. "You've had girlfriends. And boyfriends. And occasionally at least one of each at the same time.”

"Yeah, but that's me."

He couldn't help but laugh again. "Tony, I know you pride yourself on being the center of the universe, but you honestly aren't the inventor of bisexuality."

Now Tony joined him in laughter. “Yeah, I guess that was a comment unbefitting my usual brilliance. But, seriously, you've never mentioned it.”

Bruce shrugged. “There's never been a lot to say. I've gone out with a couple of girls and a couple of guys in the past year or so. Most of them never got past one or two dates.”

  
“Except this guy?” Tony leaned forward, like he didn't want to miss any of Bruce's answer.

“Well, yeah, I guess. It's not a big deal. Kind of... friends-with-benefits.” Excellent benefits, to be honest, but still, nothing either of them wanted to build anything more on.

“Wow. I can't believe I had no clue.”

“I can,” he said, but grinned at Tony. “Now, I really have to go. I need to get a shower before I go out.”

“Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

“That doesn't eliminate much,” Bruce pointed out.

Tony's answering grin was wicked. “That's the idea.”

****

 

Bruce hadn't been sure what to expect on Monday--would Tony give him the third degree about his date, or would he have forgotten all about it?--but it hadn't been this.

Not Tony showing up to the lab with lunch for both of them, grinning madly. Bruce recognized those signs. Tony had met someone. Again.

Well, it was better than when he was miserable, even if it was a little annoying. “Good weekend?” Bruce asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Fantastic weekend,” Tony confirmed, firing up his laptop. “And a fantastic week to come. You can bet on that. I'm never wrong.”

Bruce recognized that particular flavor of cheerfulness. And he was in a pretty good mood, himself, so he figured he might as well encourage Tony. It wasn't like _dis_ couraging him was really an option. “All right, what's their name?”

“What's whose name?” Tony said, with his mouth full of burger.

Bruce opened the bag Tony had set in front of him and got out his own sandwich. “Whoever has you in such a cheerful and considerate mood.”

“Can't I just be nice?”

Bruce pretended that his lunch was the reason why he didn't answer that, knowing that the silence would make Tony squirm eventually. It took less than a minute, in fact.

“Okay, maybe not--I mean, I can, if I think about it, but I don't usually think about it.” Tony's grin was almost sheepish. “But anyway, it's nothing. At least not yet. I need to give it some thought first. Don't want to go about this the wrong way.”

Well, that was unprecedented. “Really?”

“Hey, I _do_ learn,” Tony protested. And, well, it was true. He generally didn't make the same mistakes twice. At least now that he'd stopped going to the theater majors' parties. So maybe this complete feeling of dread that Bruce had was unwarranted. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions because he'd just finished picking up the pieces of Tony Stark and didn't want to do it again so soon.

“Yeah, eventually,” Bruce said. “And good luck, then.”

“Thanks. I just might need it.”

Only if whoever-it-was was such a terrible choice for Tony that they weren't even vaguely interested. Tony could be charming when he tried to be, he was brilliant, he was a pretty good friend once you got used to him, he was attractive... yeah, Tony was going to have no problem. Still, it was good that he'd realized that it might be worth devoting some actualthoughtto his approach. Maybe, one of these semesters, Tony would date someone without any sort of disaster ensuing.

That wasn't quite as appealing of a thought as it should have been, but then again, Bruce had never been great with change.

****

 

Bruce took ten deep breaths before speaking. “Tony, it's _Sunday_. Sundays are a Stark-free zone.” He started to close his door, but--”Did you-- did you just stick your foot in the door to keep me from closing it?”  
  
“Yes? No? Whichever answer will lead to you letting me in?”

Bruce stepped back, yielding to the inevitable. “Okay, fine, you win.” Tony was clutching some papers in his hand, computer printouts with scribbles all over them, so Bruce took a guess. “What genius idea can you literally not wait twenty-four hours to tell me about?”  
  
“You,” Tony said triumphantly.

“What?”  
  


“You're the genius idea. It might be one of my all-time best, in fact. You, Bruce Banner, are a brilliant idea and I don't know why I never thought of it before now.”

Bruce was _so_ glad his roommate went home most weekends. At least he didn't have to try to explain Tony to anyone else. “Tony, exactly how high are you? And on what?”

“Nothing!” Tony said, his face the picture of injured innocence. “Well, coffee. A lot of coffee. I mean, I drank a truly epic amount of espresso before I came over here.”

“Christ, you're trying to have a heart attack before you're twenty-five, aren't you?” Bruce went over to the minifridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “Sit down, drink this, and try to make sense. Maybe we should breathe?”

Tony opened the bottle and drank about half of it in a few short gulps, though he didn't sit down. Bruce did, leaving Tony the floor to pace, waving the papers in his hand. “I don't need to breathe,” he said. “I need to tell you why you're such a brilliant idea.”

“Okay, _I_ need to breathe.” Slowly. Calmly. Because Tony was interrupting his nice quiet afternoon, and he was doing it by making not one damn bit of sense.

“Can you breathe and listen at the same time?”

Breathe in through the nose, Bruce told himself. One, two, three, four. Hold for a count of seven, then out through the mouth on a count of eight. He nodded to Tony and started to breathe in again.

“Okay, then.” Tony glanced down at his sheaf of papers. “I actually did keep a list, you know. Of everything I needed to look for in a person I wanted to date. And I was reading it over, and that was when I had the brilliant idea: we should totally go out.”

Thank God Bruce was already doing deep breathing. He'd probably have hyperventilated otherwise. “That's your brilliant idea?” It wasn't actually a bad one. Well, maybe. It depended on what kind of reasoning Tony had used to get there, but it wasn't like Bruce was opposedto the idea.

“Yes!” Tony seemed just as enthusiastically certain as he always was about anything he came up with in the lab, even the ideas that ended with something on fire. “I know you've never thought about me that way, but hear me out. Unless you find me physically repulsive. I mean, that's hard to imagine, but if you do--”

That made Bruce smile in spite of how utterly weird this conversation was. “I don't find you repulsive, Tony. I promise. In fact--”

“Good. That was the one thing I couldn't figure out a way around. So, okay, since that's not an issue, listen.” Bruce gave up trying to get in a word in edgewise and just listened. “You don't mind that I spend forever in the lab. _You_ spend forever in the lab. Not to mention that you make me eat, and drink water, and go home and sleep.” He frowned. “Not that I need you to take care of me, just that it doesn't seem to piss you off to do it, just like it doesn't piss me off that sometimes you forget how to breathe and I have to help calm you down. And besides, if we're _both_ in the lab instead of going out, nobody's going to get mad, and anyway, we can make out while code is compiling or we need a break.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, because of course it was okay. It felt kind of inevitable, really, when you got right down to it. He'd accepted the fact that Tony wasn't into him--it wasn't like Bruce had been _pining_ \--but he'd still been really aware that Tony was attractive, and that if Tony hadbeen interested, that would have been good with Bruce.

It turned out Tony interpreted “okay” as “Okay, keep talking,” because he launched into his next reason. “Also, I had no idea you dated guys until last weekend, so obviously I never really thought about you like that before now, but you don't think I'm gross, and I _do_ think you're kind of hot, in a dorky way. Which, just to be clear, I like. I like dorks.”

Bruce gave up and laughed. “I said _okay_ , Tony.”

“But also! You're not hung up on Natasha, and you're not interested in my dad's money. You're not a--what was it? A psychopathic narcissist? You're not one of those. And I'm not either. I mean, I'm kind of fucked up, but that doesn't usually bother you much.” Tony's expression changed, became softer, kind of vulnerable. Really vulnerable, not trying-to-talk-Bruce-into-something puppydog eyes. “Does it?”

“Of course not,” Bruce said softly. He waved a hand toward the top of the dresser, where he kept his prescription bottles. “I need those to stay functional, and some days it's still pretty hard. And when I forgot to fill my prescriptions for a few days last year, I punched a hole in the wall, remember?” His psychiatrist had told him it was probably withdrawal, not that Bruce was secretly a monster who had to be kept chemically restrained, but he'd made sure it would never happen again. He got his refills as soon as he could, to build up a buffer zone; he set multiple alarms on his phone to remind him both to take his meds and when he was due to call a refill into the pharmacy. He'd thrown up when he'd seen the hole he'd left in the wall, and he'd felt sick every time he'd looked down at his bandaged hand until it healed. Never again. “I'm not going to complain about someone being a little fucked-up.”

“That's what I thought!” Tony let his papers fall to the floor. “And don't forget--wait a minute, you said _okay_. Do you mean, _okay_ okay?Because if you need some time to think about it, I know I sort of sprang it on you.”

“I'm good,” Bruce said. And he was; he wasn't even having trouble breathing. He couldn't stop his right hand from tapping against his knee, so he wasn't totally calm, but he could breathe, and he could talk, and he could think, so all was fine. “I thought about it a while ago, anyway.”

“You never said anything!”

“You weren't interested, as far as I could tell, and I didn't want to make it weird. Not that you're making things weird,” he added quickly. “Or not any weirder than you make everything. Now come sit down before you wear a hole in the floor.”

Tony sat down on the bed next to him. “Oh, wait,” he said. “You know I'm not actually any good at the whole 'monogamy' thing, right? I mean, I want to date you, not just hook up sometimes like you and what's-his-face, but sometimes--”

“I know.” He should know; he'd heard enough details. “Be careful, get tested, and don't get pissed when I do the same thing, and we're good.”

“Are you going to tell me the filthy details?” Tony asked, leering at him.

Bruce laughed. “Maybe.”

“You are _definitely_ my most brilliant idea.”

“Then why aren't you kissing me? Jeez, Tony, I thought you were supposed to have game.”

Then they were both laughing, and Tony's arms were around Bruce, Tony was letting Bruce kiss him, hot and sweet and slow, and Tony was going to have to admit that this time, Bruce's idea had been even better than his.


End file.
